


Fickle Games

by katnissdoesnotfollowback



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Language, Lima Syndrome, Violence, disturbing images, referenced abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnissdoesnotfollowback/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback
Summary: There are a lot of things that Katniss regrets. Taking a job she shouldn't have --she's really not built for kidnapping. Somehow breaking half a dozen laws in one night. Letting down her dying sister. But somehow, she doesn't regret grabbing the shoes.Written for Fandom Trumps Hate 2019. Based on the music of Amber Run.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 55
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	Fickle Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juststella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juststella/gifts), [shannon17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannon17/gifts).



> My entry for Fandom Trumps Hate 2019. The lovely juststella won the auction with a sum that still astonishes me, even now. Not only was she extremely generous in her bidding, but she then gifted her prompt to her dear friend shannon117. While I've been slowly chipping away at this for the better part of a year, the pace has been nothing short of glacial. I cannot thank you two enough for trusting me with this task, nor can I apologize enough for how slow I've been writing and how late this is. Right at the wire. I wish I had more done for this one, so unfortunately, I have no idea when the next chapter will be up. It's a bit of a tricky subject and I'd like to do it justice. Thank you all for your patience, kindness, and generosity.
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone! <3 KDNFB

The crickets haven’t started singing yet. It’s still too early in spring for that. A chill still clings to the air, condensation beads at the base of the windshield. Her fingers are numb. The leather gloves should have kept her warm except the nitrile ones beneath are too tight and have squeezed the circulation from her fingers. They’re turning numb and no amount of blowing warm air on them has helped.

Katniss reaches for the keys to turn on the engine, and the man beside her smacks her hand away.

“How dumb are you?”

“It’s cold. I’m cold.”

“Whatever. Five more minutes and then we move in.”

“Your guy isn’t here,” she says and he scoffs. 

“He’ll be here.”

He sounds worried. Katniss would give him shit, since he’s done nothing but give her shit since she picked him up at the gas station an hour ago, except she needs this job and she has no idea if this prick next to her is a loose cannon or a psychopath.

She needs the money. Desperately. Her cold hands are nothing compared to what Prim is going through right now. So she keeps her silence, as much as she can. She should have talked to Gale about this. She knows she should have, if nothing else to cover her ass if things go wrong, but she has a pretty good idea what he would have said. All the ways he would have talked her out of it. He never trusted Darius, even if they were partners, but when Darius floated her a “side job,” with the promised payout she desperately needs...

“You’ll have cash as soon as the job is done. Just a little driving, a package delivery,” Darius had said.

“What sort of package?” Katniss had asked, to which Darius had told her he didn’t know. This wasn’t the kind of job where you asked questions. You just did it, and got paid. Simple as that.

Katniss shifts in her seat and stares out her window at the house they parked next to, a massive mansion, like all the ones on this street. The light from a phone screen reflects off the window. She can see the shadows as he removes his gloves to check the message.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?” she asks, turning to him with a scowl he can’t see behind her mask. She can’t see his either, that was the deal. No names and no faces. He’s yanking his gloves back on and then taking something from his pocket. A folded piece of paper.

“Our third got pulled over by a cop. He’s spooked now and not coming.”

“So we do this another night?”

“No, we go now.”

“What?”

“You wanna get paid or not?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Package won’t be here tomorrow. You’re paid to drive. So shut up and fucking drive. Follow the plan.”

“The plan was for three.” Katniss says but starts the car, following his directions down the block and around to the back of the mansion. She leans out the window and waves the card given to her as part of her gear. There’s a buzz and a click, the wrought iron gates swinging open. She feels her heart pounding as she drives through. Brings the van to a stop at the back door.

“Get out.”

“That’s not–”

“Get out!” he hisses at her. “I need three to pull this off but I don’t have three. I have you. So get your ass out of the car. Bring this.”

He shoves the paper at her and hurls himself out his door, opens the back doors, leaving Katniss in a whirlwind of thought. The driver door wrenches open and he’s standing there, a hulking brute who could probably crush her skull in his bare hands, if he wanted to.

“I don’t see how I’ll be much help,” she mutters, but flings her leather gloves onto the dashboard and follows him inside. Through darkened back halls, the sounds of a TV or something leading them upstairs, to their quarry.

Sweat beads on her upper lip, her brow. She’s breathing like a pug, loud and almost snorting pants, but her companion doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes scan across the plush carpets and expensive antiques, the paintings on the walls.

“Bet he’s jerking off to kiddie porn,” her companion sneers as they reach the upper floor, the sounds and lights spilling from the room into the pitch black corridor their beacon. She sees a shadow move across the door, a trick of lighting, she thinks.

They creep towards it and she grabs hold of the jacket in front of her. Bile rises in her throat. What is she doing? She blinks the perspiration from her eyes and opens her mouth to bail, back out, but then she has no choice. He takes it away from her with a single step.

He slinks into the room, his jacket torn from her grasp. She stumbles forward into the doorway and sees it all. The person reposed on the bed, one arm tucked under his head as he sleeps, the other over his chest. He’s dressed in jeans and a long sleeve tee, ankles crossed. It’s not porn on the TV but a news station.

She watches the cloth placed over mouth, the startle awake, wide confused eyes for just a second. Then the spring up as he fights. Hand knocking aside the sedative laced cloth as he lurches at his attacker. Something shatters. Someone yells. The light shifts and flickers as they knock over a lamp. Katniss stands, transfixed and frozen. 

“Get the cloth, you stupid bitch!”

She scoops it up and her partner spins, their quarry caught in a headlock. He’s still struggling and kicks at her, but she jumps back then gets it over his mouth and nose. Holds it tight. Tight. Her pulse thuds and she thinks she can see his in his temples. Then her eyes meet his as he stares at her, makes a strange choking coughing sound in his throat.

Blue. Betrayal and blue and confusion and then his eyes roll back, closing as his head lolls to the side. His body sags, dragging both men down to the floor.

“Fuck! We gotta go. Now.” A limp form is rolled off to the side and her companion stands. He struggles for a second, finally getting their package over his shoulders. His feet dangle, limp in their socks. The left heel is worn almost through. Rich guy like him shouldn’t be wearing worn socks, should he? 

Their package. She thought it was a _thing_ , not a _person_. 

“Come on! Leave the note!”

She shakes herself and hurries towards the door, but as she does, she spots a coat and a pair of leather shoes by the desk. Expensive. Warm. He’s wearing nothing but socks on his feet. He’ll freeze to death. So she sets the paper down, grabs the shoes and coat, gathers up the orange scarf that trails out of it, and follows the cursing and stumbling back out to the van.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting this fic with an M rating to be safe. Unknown if the rating will climb at a later date. Tags will be added as we go in the name of no spoilers, but I put the worst of the warnings on here to start with.


End file.
